If you happened to read my last post, EddFest Preview: Knebworth Bound, you’ll be aware that this was one festival I originally had no intention of attending, for no other reason than a financial one. But Sonia being Sonia, and knowing just how much I love Iron Maiden, she decided it would be a great idea to purchase Saturday day tickets anyway as a surprise for Father’s Day, and a great surprise it was too, definitely one I wasn’t expecting, and one I’ve probably been overly excited about from the moment she told me.

For 50 years now, Iron Maiden have been weaving their magic and entertaining hardened metalheads around the world, and I’ve been lucky enough to see them live on many occasions during that time. But this two day festival, the bands only UK show on their current run of the Run For Your Lives tour, was all geared up to be the show of all shows, and let’s face it, none of the band members are getting any younger, and they’re not going to be around forever.

Add that to the fact Sonia has never seen Maiden live before, and we were all set for what should have been a fantastic day out. One to be remembered for the rest of our lives no doubt.

Unfortunately, finances were the least of our concerns when it came to the actual day itself.

Right now I should be sat here writing one of my usually witty, tongue in cheek reviews of the days events, reviews that some of you have grown to love, whilst others have chosen to dislike them, disregarding my posts as reviews at all, just because I choose to write about our whole experiences throughout the day, night, weekend, whatever, and not just the bands themselves. But I’ve never pretended to be an experienced reviewer. I write what I want to write, and leave it to you as to whether you choose to read what I’ve written or not.

This time however, I can’t think of anything humerus or witty to write. This time I need to say it how it is and stop trying to hide behind the jokes. This time, this event, these experiences, they’ve all made me sit back and seriously reevaluate my desire and ability to attend future festivals, especially when it comes to my health and well-being, both physically and mentally.

Unusually for me the night before a festival, especially seeing as it was still 24ºC in the house over night, I’d actually managed to get a good nights sleep, and slept through almost until the alarm went off at 6am, before hitting the shower and getting ready for the day ahead.

We knew it was going to be a long hot day, and that at some point we were gonna be sat in a queue in the car waiting to get onto the car park, and no doubt an even longer queue to get back off again at the end of the night. So we packed more than enough food and drink (non-alcoholic of course) to see us through and make sure we kept ourselves hydrated in these record UK temperatures.

In hindsight, we should’ve known what kind of a day we were going to have soon after hitting the motorway, when just one junction further on, we hit a dip in the road and the car just decided to die on us… engine, electrics, brakes, everything. Sonia barely managed to coast us past the top of the slip road (too late for us to leave the motorway) and make it to the hard shoulder, before the car slowly rolled to a natural stop, with us unable to engage the hazard lights in order to warn other motorists.

Luckily, the car started again straight away without issue and we continued our journey, though had it happened a second time, that would have been it. We wouldn’t have even contemplated going any further. Our day would have been done there and then. No questions asked.

We’d made sure we’d left home in plenty of time to reach our destination at a relaxed pace, and with enough time for Sonia to stop whenever she needed to for a drink or to simply stretch her legs, which is exactly what we did when we reached Watford Gap Services on the M1, the halfway point of our journey, where we stayed for 25 minutes or so and had a drink and a bite to eat.

But by time we reached Toddington Services, just 70 miles further down the road, traffic was starting to build up a little, and Sonia needed the loo anyway, so we pulled off the motorway again for another short break. This time for no more than 10 minutes.

As we pulled back onto the M1 afterwards however, we were no further than half a mile down the road when all four lanes had come to a complete stand still. Bumper to bumper traffic in blistering heat. No one moving anywhere due to a stranded vehicle just passed the junction where we were due to leave the motorway.

For just over an hour, it was stop, start, stop, start, until we finally managed to reach the junction, leave the motorway, and could eventually start moving again.

A major road closure meant the SatNav sent us on an alternative route from here on in, one that sent us through miles of narrow country lanes and picturesque villages and hamlets, by far the best part of the journey so far, and before we knew it, we were sat on the slip road of the A1(M) in the queue waiting to pull into the Knebworth estate, which took around another 45-minutes to an hour or so.

By the time we reached the car park, a journey that should have taken no longer than 3 hours, taking into account our 2 services stops, we’d been on the road for no less than five and a half hours, but still, we were feeling happy to be there at last.

And this is where the problems really started.

Because of how late we were in securing tickets for the event, Sonia had been unable to secure accessible parking owing to my mobility issues, meaning we had to park in general parking, and that meant parking in a field. That field turned out to be car park number 4, the furthest car park from the actual arena. A car park we were informed by staff was no more than 900 meters away from the arena entrance… Believe me, this information is far from the truth.

Pleading my mobility issues to car park staff, and displaying both my blue badge and Nimbus Access Card had no impact what-so-ever, and fell completely on deaf ears. The staff either didn’t want to know, or didn’t know what to do in this situation, so our pleading was all done in vein.

Once we’d been directed by staff to our parking spot, almost at the very far end of the car park, we got out of the car, grabbed our camping chairs, hats, and sun cream, and began the trek around the perimeter of the fields, along the treeline, using the so called pedestrian routes provided, and across rough, uneven terrain. Not fun when you have problems walking and have to use a walking aid.

And we weren’t the only ones… other disabled attendees, and even able bodied people were struggling to cope with the walk across such terrain and in the blistering 30ºC+ temperatures, made worse by the fact that the organisers had failed to provide one single water point or toilet along the route.

By the time we made it to the gate leading off the car park, some 1290 meters along the route. I’d already had to stop and sit down no fewer than 6 times due to excruciating pain in both my legs and back. Hopefully though, we were almost there… But no!

It’s at this point we got speaking to a guy who’d also attended on the Friday, and he informed us that we still had at least another 30 minutes of walking to do, and that’s if we were able bodied. He told me I was looking at at least another 45-60 minute walk, and that’s if I didn’t have breaks.

I was heart broken. I knew I was going to struggle even getting to the arena, never mind being able to enjoy the bands, then having to struggle all the way back to the car afterwards. I know my limits, and I knew deep down I was wasting both our time and energy even trying, but I persevered non-the-less.

But another 600 meters or so and that was it. I physically couldn’t walk any further. I felt that my day was done. Over before it had even started. By now The Almighty were already on stage… One of only two bands out of the five playing that I really wanted to see, those and Iron Maiden obviously… but I was in severe pain… I was feeling down… I was feeling unwell… I just wanted to go home.

It had taken us over 5 hours to get there. It had taken us 2 hours to walk as far as I could physically manage. I’d missed one of the bands I wanted to see. So we decided to chill for a while in the camping chairs under what little shade we could find, in the hope that things would improve, and I’d be able to make it into the arena.

Sadly though, the damage was already done… Physically I couldn’t walk any further… Mentally, I didn’t want to. I was so close to breaking down completely.

Sonia asked me what I wanted to do. Go home was my only answer. How? Was my only thought. How was I going to get back to the car when I physically couldn’t walk?

Upon hearing my answer, Sonia was off in search of a member of staff to ask for assistance, returning moments later with the news that a member of security was coming to pick us up in a van and take us back to the car. Something I was more than grateful for.

When the security supervisor arrived, she gave us an option. She wanted us to be able to stay and enjoy the gig. She offered to either drop us at the car so we could go home, or drop us at the entrance to the arena so that we could get in and see the show. The choice was ours, but as I’ve said previously, the damage was already done. My day already felt done. We opted for the car, purely based on the fact I wouldn’t be able to make the walk back afterwards.

Once at the car, we thanked the supervisor, and off she drove to help the next stranded festival goer with similar issues.

Now the cynic in me thought that was it. Get in the car, get off the car park, head for home, and sort my emotions when I got back to familiar surroundings. If only life was so simple.

We spent the next hour at least being pushed from pillar to post between different members of staff in an attempt to leave the car park… Only problem was… There was no way off the car park… There was no exit, because the police had decided to make the road one way only in order to clear the queues of traffic still trying to get into a car park that was already all but full. There was no organisation what-so-ever, and when we asked what would happen in the event of an evacuation. Staff simply had no answer.

We were next directed out of the car park by a member of staff, along a narrow single lane and against on-coming traffic. All to a tirade of insults, abuse, and intimidation from those still trying to get onto the car park. I’ve always had the utmost respect for my fellow metalheads, especially when it comes to Maiden fans… but that respect is now no longer valid… It’s void… It’s gone.

Eventually, we did manage to get off the car park and make our way towards Knebworth House itself in order to exit the estate, but not before having to stop and explain our situation to every member of security along the way.

We were literally 100 meters away from the exit when a member of security asked if we would like to stay if he could get us a space on the accessible car park nearer to the arena, the very car park we’d been denied access to when Sonia originally booked the tickets, as ALL parking spaces had apparently already been allocated.

By this time, we’d been sat in the comfort of the car for an hour and half, my anxiety levels had dropped considerably, and although I was still in a lot of pain, I thought that maybe we would be able to at least see Maiden, and make it back to the car afterwards, even if it did mean me having to stop and sit down several times. So reluctantly, we thanked him, and I said we’d give it a go.

When we reached the accessible car park, we couldn’t believe our eyes. There was room for at least another 20 or 30 cars on there without issue. So why were we informed that there was no spaces available? It made no sense.

What we didn’t realise however, was that there was still another 20-30 minute walk from the accessible car park to the arena entrance. I made it halfway before having to stop again due to severe pain.

Sonia was advised to speak to a member of staff at the accessible campsite to ask for assistance, and they arranged for a member of the TLC Welfare team to come and pick us up and drop us at the entrance. And what a great, friendly, and compassionate guy he was. Jamie, we will forever be in your debt my friend… you are an absolute gent. One in a million.

It was 6:30pm before we finally made it into the arena, our camping chair bags simply unchecked by security as we made our way in. Surely a major safety risk in itself? Anyone could have been carrying firearms, blades, or any other form of weapon into that arena, and the so-called security would have been none the wiser until it was too late. What an absolute joke.

After finding somewhere near to the entrance to pitch our chairs for a while, somewhere with zero view of the stage what-so-ever, we finally managed to meet up with our good friends Dave and Steve, who’d had their own issues getting to the venue via the unreliable shuttle bus service from Stevenage Railway Station, just as The HU were finishing off their set.

This left only The Darkness (who we had absolutely no intention of entertaining) to come before Maiden hit the stage, so Sonia went off to get us a drink, leaving the three of us to complain about how shit the overall experience of the days events had been so far. Surely things couldn’t get any worse… Could they?

Short answer… Yes they could.

I’d been sat for no more that 40 minutes when everything got on top of me again. The heat. The pain. The anxiety. The depression. The stress. I made my way to the medical tent in search of assistance who offered me the same painkillers Sonia already had in her bag and nothing more. The same painkillers I’d already been taking throughout the day, but to no effect. But at least it was cool in there.

Next thing I remember is waking up on a stretcher surrounded by a paramedic and two members of the medical team… Epilepsy had reared it’s ugly head once again.

Sonia arrived in the medical tent soon after, following her own ordeal of trying to find me, again pushed from pillar to post as no one seemed to know where I was. At one point she was even asked if her husband was named Carol ffs!… It took her having to show them my photograph on her phone before they finally said, oh he’s here, he’s had a seizure.

That was it, our day was now well and truly done. Once I’d recovered enough, it was agreed that the best course of action was for Sonia to get me home to which I agreed. But not before another small emotional breakdown.

Again, the services of Jamie from the TLC Welfare team were called upon in order to get us back to the car… that was it. £369, five and a half hours travel, and almost 7 hours on site, and we never got to see a single band, before we were leaving for home.

We found the whole experience of our first (and last) visit to Knebworth absolutely horrendous. It was very badly organised, chaotic, and if I’m honest, somewhat discriminating towards people with mobility issues and disabilities.

Some of the information provided on the official event website and by staff on the day was incorrect, or at the very least misleading, and there was nothing enjoyable about our experiences what-so-ever… so much so, that we have actually complained to the event organisers Iron Maiden Management Team and Kilimanjaro Live Ltd, listing our safety issues and well-being concerns, and asking for a full refund on out ticket costs on the grounds of several breaches of contract and disability discrimination… I won’t be holding my breath.

All in all, our experiences of EddFest and Knebworth as a venue, have left me questioning not only my desire, but also my ability to attend any future festival, and that’s not fair.

I now need to sit back and start putting my health first, both physically, and mentally. Is it time for me to finally call it a day and put my festival going antics to bed? Or do I need to start fighting for my rights to be treated fairly as a disabled fan of live heavy metal music?… I don’t know the answers right now. Maybe that’s for another post at a later date.